


What Drowns At Sea

by Kokadin (Kondraki)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Gen, Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-05 18:51:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16816399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kondraki/pseuds/Kokadin
Summary: The G8 think they're taking a regular aeroplane trip. When it crashes down in the ocean, their true colours begin to show.Left adrift, with only each other and miles of water as far as the eye can see, things turn downhill.





	1. DAY 1-2

DAY 1

The plane had crashed, and they were in the lifeboats so fast it was a blur. Naturally, the G8 had stuck together, all in a single lifeboat with no humans. Just the 8 of them, and the sea.

Italy was clinging to Germany, and Germany was clinging back. Japan was surprisingly calm. Russia was more sad than scared. America was trying to calm everyone down in a panicked voice, and not really doing anything effective. France was slinging his arm over Canada, who was curled up. England sat there, being fine; his pirate days had far more grave incidents.

About 10 minutes had passed and people were already getting stir crazy and snappy amongst themselves.

"Maybe the plane crashed because of America's fat arse doubling the weight of the plane."

"Hey, maybe it crashed because you ordered so much tea!"

"Says the one who ate 10 burgers an hour!"

"That's not so much!"

"That's one every six minutes!"

"Mon dieu, will you both shut up?"

America and England glared at each other.

"Well, I'm tired. I'm going to sleep so my IQ doesn't drop from being around America for so long."

France sighed, but was still glad that they had at least stopped squabbling.

DAY 2

England was the first to wake, as he was the first to sleep. The early sun rising just above the waves provided a slither of warmth, and dyed the clouds and water orange.

He looked around, seeing nothing but water in all directions. The ocean seemed to stretch out forever, as if they were the only things in the world.

His stomach growled and he scanned the boat for any food. An opened box of bread and water caught his eye, and one loaf was gone - judging by the crumbs everywhere. Everyone was in nearly the same position as yesterday. Looking in the box, he saw even more bread and water. England grabbed a smaller loaf and tucked in. He tore off one end and shoved it eagerly in his mouth.

"Hey Angleterré."

"Hey froggy."

He took a swig of water and sat back in his spot.

"Did anything happen after I went to sleep?"

"Non. Amerique was sick from eating so many burgers and didn't feel like eating after, so he might end up eating more when he wakes up."

"You should've woken me for him throwing up. Sounds funny."

"Wasn't pretty, but yes, it was funny."

"Hey, are you two talking about me?"

America had woken at the mention of his name.

"Yes. I was telling England about your little stomach spill."

"The hell, dude?"

"He would have found out sooner or later anyway."

America grumbled loudly to himself.

Russia began to move and sat up.

"What's going on?"

"France told me about the little stomach incident America had last night."

"Hahaha! It was hilarious."

"Russia, dude, it was totally not!"

America grumbled even louder and glared at the waves, hunched up to hide his blush.

Germany had awoken at the sound of bickering

"Urgh, what are you all arguing about NOW?"

"Well, England asked if anything had happened when he went to sleep, and I simply explained all that happened was Amerique's little stomach mishap. If anything, this argument is England's fault for asking what happened, which is a reasonable thing to do anyway."

"England, we are fine, of course nothing happened. You don't need to know everything that happens"

America whipped his head around and chimed in an agreement, then went back to staring down the waves. Germany lay back down next to Italy and murmured something.

A few hours had passed, and the sun was right above their heads. England never did well in the heat, so he was sprawled underneath his coat for shade. Everyone else was awake and talking about anything, from best type of milk to when they would be saved.

"Hey eyebrows, move your legs."

America was getting mildly annoyed at England's sprawled legs near him.

"It's too hooooot." the blond lump moaned back.

"Well if you're so hot, why don't you take a dip!" With that final statement, America whipped the coat off him and picked him up.

"Put me down, dickhead!"

"If you say so." America threw England off the side of the boat, as vengeance for him laughing at his weak stomach.

England made a 'yeep' noise and was silenced as he hit the water. A second later he re-emerged, spluttering and splashing. He leaped for the edge of the boat but America shoved his hands off the moment he grabbed it.

"America!"

"What? You said you were hot! Enjoy a nice cool swim, bro!" He deflected England's hands again as he tried to get out the water, and laughter ensued in the whole boat - apart from Canada, who was unimpressed with his brother's expectable outburst.

"Let me on!"

"Nah!" More laughter.

He dove down while America wasn't looking and surfaced the other side silently. He quickly climbed up - only to be pushed off again by Russia. The laughter rose, and even Canada joined in.

His pirate days kicked in, and he knew what to do; He swam down and darted upwards. England practically rolled over the edge, not giving anyone time to even reach over to his side before hitting the deck.

"Oof!" America walked over and reached down to the wet and messy lump, but the lump knew that he was going to be chucked in again. England hooked his leg around America's ankle and pulled, making him fall backwards and hit his head on the floor.

"Ow! Dude?!"

"Well, what was I meant to do?"

"Not make me bang my head head on the floor?"

"Maybe you shouldn't have tried to throw me in again."

"England, learn to take a joke." Germany ordered.

He grumbled at everyone siding against him and curled back under his coat - this time to warm up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out the cover for this story (and my blog) here!
> 
> https://aphenglandfan01010169420.tumblr.com/post/180722299634/


	2. DAY 4-6

DAY 4

Arguing.

More and more arguing.

Nothing but yelling.

Yelling and shouting.

The waves could barely be heard.

America was demanding to be listened to, to be obeyed. Some of the G8 were trying to talk him down, but noticing they probably should just let him do his thing before someone got hurt.

England turned over. He wanted to sleep through it. But he wasn't ever going to sleep again at this rate.

_Shut up._

_Shut UP._

_shutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutup_

_SHUT._

_UP._

_SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP_

**_SHUT_ **

**_U P_ **

"SHUT UP!" He barely noticed how he said it out loud, then realised just how loud he had yelled it.

America turned to him.

“How about YOU shut up?”

“You’ve done nothing but argue! Let me sleep, arsehole!” The american clenched his fist into a ball, seething through his teeth, giving England a hollow but rage-filled stare. Everything was going to his head. He obviously wasn’t coping, just taking it out on everyone else. He had done nothing but be angry at everyone since last night, not stopping his anger for a second. It drained everyone to the point they went along with his stupid ideas of ‘rationing.’

Something boiled in America.

He kicked the side of the boat, cussed under his breath, and glared at England.

It was the weirdest look he had ever gotten from him.

And the most terrifying.

The waves felt louder now.

That was the only noise.

It was different from before the arguing, as if the waves were arguing for them now.

It was so much nicer to be quiet. At the same time, America’s atmosphere when quiet felt worse than before. Like a ticking time bomb, on the boat they were stranded on.

DAY 6

Everyone had mellowed out, except for America. He was why they had mellowed out. It was hard to not be, he had taken to ordering everyone around in a frantic attempt to keep tabs on everyone.

Including food rationing.

"There's plenty of food, really. You don't have to be this controlling." England scoffed. His comment earned an angry glare from America

"Dude, shut the hell up. Someone has to be the hero here!"

"This isn't being a hero, it's needlessly controlling food as if we're going to run out. Really, we could probably last a month with this."

"Look, eyebrows, if you're going to be like that then how would having no food sound?"

"What?"

"You seem eager to not have any food!”

"Bloody- This is going to your head! This isn't your boat!"

The last sentence stirred something in America.

Italy stirred, and reached forwards. "H-hey, l-" and was cut off by Germany, with a hushed tone.

"Don't try and intervene. It's not out problem. I don't want you to get hurt." Genuine concern glimmered in his eyes, but Italy couldn't help to worry. It seemed wrong to do nothing, but being stranded like this was also wrong. He winced and looked away from the arguing.

**BAM.**

The sound of a fist against a jaw.

He looked back, to see England lying on the floor, dazed. Everyone else had taken to looking away, focusing on the sea or each other. The arguing wasn't really new on this boat, but the physical aspect was - and Italy didn't want to just let this happen. He twisted in Germany's grip, but he held on fast

"Don't bother. It's not our problem."

"How could you sa- IT IS!" and with one last shove he was stood up, facing America, standing between him and the shaken brit.

“The hell do you two think you’re doing?”

Italy hadn’t planned this far, and he was desperate. And desperate times called for desperate measures.

He was going to use the secret Italian technique, passed down generation to generation by his people…

He begged for mercy.

“Please! Stop fighting! This won’t help anyone! We’re all trapped here anyway! Please!” He strained the words out between the clenching of his fear-gripped throat, and trembled. Italy bit his lip to not let out a yelp as he saw America’s knuckles tense up more.

“God, both of you are so god damn annoying!”

The sun had long gone, and America was finally asleep, keeping the anger on his face even unconscious. The Italian took the moment to lean to the brit, speaking in a hushed tone, trying to keep the fear out his voice (and failing for the most part.)

“Hey, are you okay? It’s bruising pretty badly.”

He took a second to respond, not used to people caring or even noticing his ailments. “I’m- I’ll be fine. It’s just a surface bruise. Good thing he never listened to me back in the day when I tried to teach him how to throw a real punch.” Bitter humour shone on them both momentarily.

“Thank you for asking. I’m just a little peckish, given his… possessive nature towards the food today.” It hit him – America hadn’t given him any of the food earlier! He wished he saved some for him, but had been so enticed with stuffing his own face that he hadn’t notice him be conveniently cornered off.

“He’s asleep, I’m going to see if I can grab something!” Italy was already on his way to the crate by the time England had a chance to tell him to not, and that it was a terrible idea. But he was darting between everyone else’s sleeping bodies, not making a single noise that could be heard above the gentle lapping on the waves. England tried to clench his jaw, but the ache sharpened in protest.

Each footstep so was beautifully timed and done that it seemed rehearsed; a step here, a step there, a step here and there, and he was at a crate and grabbing a portion. And even coming back, his dainty steps worked so well. The ocean hummed.

“Here! The pack might rustle, be careful.” They both sheltered around the bag, operating as to get the bread out but keep quiet.

They shared the night, whispering conversation as they watched the stars above, huddled under their coats and pointing at the stars. The muffled giggles went on for hours, even until the sky began to lighten again.

They almost forgot they were on a life raft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another small chapter because shit's about to go down


	3. DAY 7-8

DAY 7

“Well it was someone!”

“Calm down, it’s just one little pack!”

“Don’t tell me what to do!

Darkness clouded away out of his vision as he slowly stirred, bright sunlight blinding what he could see. He was up against something large and warm…

His eyes focused. Italy. They had fallen asleep together, huddled, and he was reluctant to move.

He looked so sweet and small when asleep.

A harsh yell pulled him out of his daydream.

“Hey, brow-brains, get up!” He made vague human noises in return.

“And give me the coats!” and with a single yank, they were both exposed, their forms melting into one another lit by sunlight. Italy stirred, and England let out a disappointed grown at waking the soft Italian.

“See! Look!” America accusingly pointed at the flour on their legs from the low budget preserved food. “You two care to explain what the hell that is?”

“Cocaine.” England’s flat tone earned laughs from the other members of the boat, but fury from America’s face.

“You piece of shit- you PIECES of shit!” Italy was still trying to notice he was awake, so England got offended on his behalf.

The air turned cold. Bitingly cold. And stale.

“I’m so fucking FED UP OF YOU!” Italy jolted into reality, and the rest of the boat leaned away from the three. America’s rage looked so unusually cold and hostile.

“If you won’t abide to the rules of my boat, then get the HELL OUT! How many times do I have to tell you before you starve us all?!”

“THIS ISN’T YOUR BOAT! SNAP OUT OF IT!”

“Is it now? You wanna bet on that?” Oddly flat and calm tone, he took a step forward. Italy reflexively pulled away but regretted it mid-motion. A balled fist clenched England’s shirt and lifted him up.

From up here, he looked like a total stranger.

“Get over here.” England dangled from his raised arm, not too sure what he was going to do.

Until he saw one of the metal crates emptied out.

“Git! This is going too far!”

“Oh, going too far? Going too fucking far? I think it’s reasonable, given you won’t stop this crap.” And with the final parting words, he jammed him in the small metal crate, slamming the door shut. Fists pounded on the door. Muffled threats of violence and to grow the fuck up could barely be heard over the waves, which had picked up considerably. The boat swayed.

Italy began to shake. “This isn’t right! Don’t just leave him in there! What’s wrong with you?” The other nations stayed quiet, just to stay on America’s good side.

“Fine, how about something better?” And with that he walked back to the metal crate.

Italy breathed in relief.

Until he picked up the crate. The sounds of fists banging on the metal became inaudible over the waves and the pulse in his ears. America walked to the side of the raft.

"W-What are you doing?!" Italy barely choked out. "What I should've done days ago, asshole!" Everyone knew what was coming and hid away to try and not pay attention to what was happening.

Except Italy.

"No! Don't do this! Please!" he sobbed the words out, being cut off by Germany holding him back so he wouldn't get in harm's way of the american. "Please! NO!" America barely heard him as he put a foot up on the side of the raft, dangling the crate over the waves.

Before he knew it, the crate hit the water with an almighty splash. Italy had no more words, only crying, and fought uselessly against the grip of his captor. Everyone else looked away, missing the painful look Italy gave America, and the cold, indifferent look he gave back.

He uselessly sobbed into Germany, part of him wishing it was the other blond he was holding. He didn’t even hear the words of reassurance.

The waves buzzed angrily.

No one else on this boat was going to miss England.

Germany felt cold to the touch; his words went unheard.

DAY 8

He felt just as powerless as he was when they first got in the boat.

At the time it was such a wild rush, to really do that, but now his rationing and ordering all felt empty. Everyone else was just glad he was quieter now.

He remembered the second day, where he had thrown him into the water as a joke. Everyone had laughed, thinking nothing of it.

The memories of that event overlapped with yesterday. Everyone laughing as he watched the crate bubble and sink out of view.

He couldn’t think of anything else.

No one had said anything at all so far.

Not even when they grabbed a ration.

The only noise from inside the boat was the occasional noise from Italy.

_Stop fucking judging me with those big sad eyes. I did what I wante- we needed to do._

_…_

_Right?_

_… I swear to god I’m going to punch his lights out if he carries on doing that._

DAY ???

_Everything is so dark down here_

_Nothingness_

_Perfect nothing_

_…_

_The water is speaking to me, isn’t it?_

_…_

_Or is that just myself?_

_…_

_…_

_I never thought there would be this much magical energy 4 kilometres below water surface level._

_Everything is so untouched down here._

_A private world._

_…_

_My private world._

_…_

_…_

_The water doesn’t have a mind_

_So it craved one_

_…_

_And here I am._

_…_

_…_

_I don’t know where that crate is_

_Or where my body is_

_I only see water._

_So much water._

_…_

_Seeing without eyes._

_…_

_I know where my body is. Time to stop kidding myself._

_It’s all around me._

_For miles._

_…_

_Focus…_

_There._

_Sensed them._

_I can sense it all._

_Even where YOU are._

_…_

_May as well have some fun. Wanker._

_…_

_?_

_WHAT DOES THAT ARSEHOLE THINK HE’S DOING?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what drowns at sea? england drowns at sea. thanks for coming to my fanfic guys


	4. DAY 9

DAY 9

Splish!

America jolted. Who did that? WHO THE HELL DID THAT?

“HEY!” Everyone stared. “WHO THE HELL WAS THAT?” They all noticed the water on his face, dripping onto his jacket. The waves were flat for miles around, silent and cold.

No one fessed up.

“Seriously! Not cool!” His anger was scary, but nothing compared to the days before… the incident.

Silence.

Splish!

The boat members ranged from chortling sensibly, to outright laughter. With the exception of soggy anger.

“Mon ami, (snort), I think the fish are doing this. (ohonhonhon)”

He turned to face the water.

No fish.

Maybe if he took a closer look…

He leant on the side, in arm’s reach from the water.

SPLASH!

Laughter filled the boat. America was soaking wet now. What was that, some dolphin’s blowhole? It felt like a pressure hose that time.

He scoffed at everyone for making a joke out of it and sat down, part of him panicking. He didn’t know what or why, but something was in that water. He blinked some salt water out.

America was nearly dry.

Italy was trying desperately to read America’s face.

America was getting annoyed of him staring.

Italy decided to do something else for a minute.

He dragged himself to the food crate that was open.

“Didn’t you have some earlier?” America accused.

“I’m hungry.”

“You had some _earlier._ ”

“Not enough. And you’ve been making us eat too little anyway.” Germany felt anxiety well up at the thought of him trying to pick a fight like this. America responded as expected.

“Hey. You aren’t having any.”

“I am.” And with those two unexpected words, Germany felt anxiety turn to cold but boiling fear.

America stood up.

“The hell you aren’t!” He took a single stride. Italy didn’t move.

A second step. Nothing.

A third, and he was stood directly with him. Everyone else looked on in terror, frozen, not knowing what would happen next.

As soon as his fist went around the shorter man’s neck, it hoisted the Italian into the air. Not even bothering to walk over, he chucked him over the edge of the boat, into the smooth and silent ocean.

Italy felt the cold of the water immediately rack him, air pulled tight into his lungs. The momentum sent him down, reeling, and he finally began to panic. Everything was spinning, physically and mentally. His arms flailed, trying to stabilize himself.

Everything stopped.

He was far deeper than a few seconds ago.

Above, the waves raged, but down here everything was calm and still.

Warm, almost.

A fish danced by.

A lone bubble drifted up from his face.

He felt the gentle touch of a hand on his own, but when he looked there was nothing there.

Only water.

But even staring directly at it, the soft hold stayed. He already forgot about how cold it felt a few seconds ago.

It tugged him down gently, somehow friendly, and as his eyes adjusted the water seemed to flow gently around him. In his peripheral sight, a dolphin darted by. As he went further down, the darkness enveloped him, a complete opposite of the feeling he had when alone at night. He held the hand back. For a second, he felt he saw gentle green eyes from far below, framed by a messy head of hair, matched with eyebrows.

It brought him along, showing him through a school of fish that nearly touched him. An eel slid past him, and wrapped around itself before darting back down. It was so peaceful and beautiful down here.

So perfect, in fact, he only just realised his lungs were beginning to ache.

He froze in fear, reeling his hand back in to push himself to the surface that seemed so far away. Panic caught in his throat, he wanted to cry, but then the current ripped upwards. The surface closed in fast.

Germany and France both shot up, following the huge splash, but were immediately pushed over backwards by gravity as the boat leapt up away from them. Everyone began yelling, grabbing to each other, as the waves appeared from nowhere. America rolled over, yelping as his head hit into a crate. The boat suddenly threw them the other way, the incomprehensibly and inexplicably wild waves roared around them, and confused yelling continued. France tried to shout over them all.

“What the hell is going on?!” Germany landed square on his chest, knocking all remaining air out of him as the waves spat at them.

The waves raged, throwing them around as they tried to grab onto anything they could.

Russia tried to wedge his pipe in a gap and grabbed Canada. They held fast for a full second, but then began to fall again. Japan was lying face down and praying nothing else landed on him. Russia landed on him. Everyone was tumbling around wildly.

Suddenly, they weren’t.

They were all soaking wet as proof, but none of the angry waves could be seen or felt. The ocean was back to what it was – pristine, smooth, calm.

They heard water raging and went back to bracing.

Italy landed ungracefully on the boat again, flapping around. America, bewildered, quickly stood up and darted closer.

Italy’s leg accidentally hooked his, and as he tried to stand he brought America down.

Everyone was soaking wet and bewildered.

“Did… we pass some sort of hidden sinkhole?” No one really bought Japan’s words.

Italy looked over everyone, the most soaked through, and brought his breath in.

“I saw him. I saw him down there. He was there.” America stared fearfully down. France interjected.

“Who?”

“England.”

****


	5. DAY 10-12 - END

DAY 10

It had been a long night of trying to talk him down and calm him, but Italy had finally stopped yammering on about how he felt a hand, saw a face, and knew it was England. While obviously not happy, he looked far less dull than yesterday, a light finally in his eyes. The ocean hadn’t seemed to move since, but felt suspiciously quiet.

France saw something move in the corner of his eye.

“What the fuck?” Everyone curiously gazed over. They just saw the bagged ration disappear over the side of the raft.

Everyone stared.

They looked back at each other for a second, then back at where it disappeared.

“Dude. What the fuck. Did anyone else see that or am I imagining it.”

Germany, somehow more unnerved than Italy, chimed up. “I- I saw that too.”

Russia stirred. “What’s going on?”

America responded, not really believing the words he was saying. “We just saw a piece of bread jump out the boat.” He stood up, just to see if they were missing something here.

And they were. About twenty rations worth of ‘something.’ All floating in the water. “Holy shit guys!” He put a leg onto the side of the raft, but France stopped him.

“Don’t get yourself wet, just see what you can grab from here and we’ll use some rope or something to get the rest.” The water murmured silently.

“Alright, someone hold me.” France stood up to get what he could, and Germany went ahead to fill the role of holding him from falling in the water.

Italy stared as a fish darted by under the boat, hurrying away. He saw something else far deeper.

Far, far deeper.

Staring back.

But not at him.

At the other side of the boat where the rations were.

“Argh- be careful!”

“D-dude I think- I think something’s pulling me, get me out! Pull!”

“What the- this isn’t funny.”

“I’m not joking!” Everyone turned to look at America pulling himself away from the water.

“Someone help me hold him!” The boat tipped slightly at the force, or maybe something else. Japan and Canada stayed back, grabbing Germany, and pulling them backwards to the other end of the boat.

“I’m not coming loose, holy shit what the hel- OW!” The boat pressed more over.

Italy grabbed Germany.

“Put some force into it, Italy! Don’t just put a hand on me! He’s slipping!”

“Let go of him.”

Everyone stared pale and wide eyed at him.

“The whole boat will tip if we do this. We’ll all fall in.” Germany stayed silent, shocked, and America was busy panicking to hear anything behind him.

Italy pressed on.

“ _Don’t bother. It’s not our problem._ ” With those words, Germany nearly dropped him. But he held fast and pulled. “Snap out of it! What’s- what’s going on with you? Help pull!” Italy stepped back.

Germany went even more pale. But now, he was staring past Italy.

A hand. A hand the size of his arm. Water. Connected to the ocean by a shifting tube of more water. It lay hung in mid-air for a second.

It lifted.

It darted forwards, slamming into his hand, replacing the grip he held. Germany fell back, and everyone else fell with him as the boat rocked back into a neutral position. All they could do was watch as the hand shifted around America, suspending him in the air, a tight watery fist around his clothes.

America was too shocked to even make a single noise until it yanked forward, throwing him down at breakneck speed, cutting off a brief yell.

The water buckled.

Everyone was still.

Waves began to rock them slightly, buzzing beneath them.

Everyone was silent.

He was sinking so fast.

Impossibly fast.

Faster than falling in air.

His sinuses felt like they were on fire, painful to the point of screaming, and the last bit of light he saw showed a red trail from his ears.

He couldn’t feel anything other than his head splitting and his ribcage being crushed.

Was he blacking out or was he truly already deep enough for light to be gone?

Tears dissolving into the water, he hoped it was the former.

As the pain grew beyond anything he had felt in his life, he mourned that it wasn’t.

_FINALLY_

_YOU_

_ARE_

_HERE_

_SCREAM AND THRASH ALL YOU LIKE_

_FIGHT ME ALL YOU LIKE_

_I AM THE LAST THING YOU WILL EVER SEE_

_THIS FAR DOWN YOU CAN’T EVEN SEE ANYTHING_

_YOU HARDLY CARE ANYWAY_

_I’M SURE THE CRUSHING FEELING OF SINKING OVER 3 KILOMETRES IN UNDER A MINUTE IS FAR MORE PAINFUL_

_BUT THIS ISN’T OVER YET_

_I HAVE POCKETS OF AIR DOWN HERE_

_THIS WILL ONLY END_

_WHEN THEY DO_

_AND WHEN THEY DO_

_I WILL TEAR YOU LIMB FROM LIMB_

_YOU ARE GOING TO PAY_

_YOU ARE WEAK_

_YOU ARE SMALL_

_YOU ARE NEVER GOING TO ESCAPE WITH YOUR LIFE_

_YOU ARE NOTHING_

_YOU ARE AT MY MERCY_

DAY 11

The rations had long since floated out of sight and out of mind.

They were talking more than two days ago, but not arguing or yelling. Just gentle words with the occasional story.

Italy was watching over the side into the water.

?

He stared closer.

A lone human leg, only from the foot to the knee, bloated and dressed in America’s clothes, bobbed silently alone.

He watched it drift by, saying nothing as everyone unknowingly buzzed behind him.

DAY 12

“Italy, wake up!” Other than France looming over him, a loud, non-ocean noise could be heard.

As his eyes adjusted to the light, he made out a large item up in the sky above him.

A helicopter.

“We’ve been saved!” He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and stared at the ladder down to the boat, Japan being near the top and Russia close behind. Canada was beginning to climb on, but Germany was trying to calm him down and make him actually go up the ladder instead of clinging at the bottom of it. Some government workers lingered in the chopper, ready to receive them.

“We were told there were eight of you.”

Everyone silently stared at one another, begging for someone else to tell them.

“It’s just us. You won’t need to bother finding them.” Italy didn’t seem as flat as he was before in his tone. But still unnerving to a point. Everyone else reeled at the social awkwardness the whole helicopter now radiated.

“Uh… Alright.

… You nation-people sure are interesting.”

Italy hummed agreement.

“Which one of you did the sign-thing?” The awkwardness was broken by the confusion.

“The what?” Russia said the first thing he had said all day.

“Yeah, the piece of metal from the aircraft. The one with your exact coordinates on it? I don’t know how you managed to get it to shore, or even work out your exact location in the first place. It looked like it’d been dragged along a lot of ocean floor despite the carvings only being a day old.”

The nations stared at each other, at a loss.

The voice from the cockpit saved them.

“Carl, stop trying to make them explain their magic and stuff. These are government secrets, idiot.”

“R- Right! Sorry Lindsey.”

“Get back in here and do your job.”

“Right away!” He looked back to them, rushed out an apology, and darted back into the cabin.

Lindsey didn’t know what just happened. Carl grabbed the controls in a strange hurry and she sat back. Did she say something? What was it? All she remembered was staring down at the ocean. Then the feeling of someone staring back. A hand before her face. The feeling of being a puppet. Then a blur of time.

Strange.

Some sharks circled a red patch, presumably from their latest kill.

Deep beneath the surface, America was still being killed slowly as the water pressure danced around him, choking and drowning but then throwing him into air bubbles.

He couldn’t tell if mockery and insults interspersed with laughter in a familiar but unfamiliar voice was a hallucination or not.

He could barely pray it ended soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for reading! i've been sitting on this fic idea since like late 2015 or something ridiculous. again, the cover was by me, https://aphenglandfan01010169420.tumblr.com/post/180722299634/
> 
> back to writing crack


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